by Diana Palmer
She smiled, a little surprised. "You know how she feels about you?"
"I've always known. Lately it's been slightly more obvious. I don't think she slept five minutes during that week I was in hospital, or even after I first came home." His eyes darkened with other memories, too personal to repeat. "Yes. I know how much she loves me."
"You're very lucky, to be loved like that."
He studied her with new eyes, new respect. "I didn't know anything about your childhood. I don't remember your ever mentioning it."
"I was too ashamed. Silly, isn't it?" she asked. "Because I'm not my mother, or my husband. I'm me. Regardless of the bad things other people do, they only affect me if I allow them to. I'm not responsible for other people's sins. Only for my own. Lately that's more than enough."
He smiled slowly. "Oh, you're not so bad," he mused. "Blake loves you."
She flushed with pleasure. "I noticed. He reads to me at night, too, now."
He chuckled. "Did he read you 'The Three Bears'? It's got Red Riding Hood and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They saved Red from the bears."
She laughed with delight. "Yes! And did he tell you the story of Sleeping Beauty? Now, it seems, the Prince was in an accident and hurt his back"
He threw back his head and roared. "He's quite a boy, my son."
"Yes, he is." Her dark eyes searched his. "Are you and Meredith going to marry?"
"Of course," he replied easily. "I'm hoping to make it pretty soon. There may be a small complication."
She frowned. "The proxies, you mean?"
He smiled with wicked glee. "Of course," he agreed without adding that the one he meant was a second child. He wasn't about to admit that to his own mother, knowing how straitlaced she was. It might demean Meredith in her eyes, because she really knew nothing about passion, despite her first love. He could pity her for that. She'd never know the obsessive desire he and Meredith felt for each other, or the oneness they attained together.
"But I've got to keep Meredith from gobbling up my company, all the same," Cy added. "Not that I think she can do it. Meanwhile, I've got one hell of a takeover fight on my hands if I don't release those mineral leases." His eyes darkened. "I hate being backed against a wall. It isn't as if they even asked politelythey just started trying to absorb me because I refused. I didn't know who Meredith was when I said no." He stretched lazily. "Well, I'll sort it out without doing too much damage to Meredith's pride. But this is one fight she's going to lose."
Myrna didn't dare disagree. But she had a feeling that Cy was underestimating Meredith's capabilities right down the line. Having seen the younger woman in action, at the hospital when she was arranging for a neurosurgeon for Cy, she could imagine what Meredith was like in business. She was going to be formidable competition, but Cy didn't want to admit that.
"Anyway," she ventured, "if I were a gambler, I'd bet that she'll marry you regardless of what happens. She and Blake are stuck on you."
"I'm equally stuck on them." He shifted again with a hard sigh. "Where is she? I've been waiting for her to come in and check on me."
"So that's why you're still in here," Myrna said with a tiny smile. "Playing invalid?"
"Shame on you." He glowered at her. "You aren't supposed to read my mind."
"You're my son," she pointed out. "And shame on you for trying to play on her sympathies. Actually, she's been on the phone most of the morning. Mr. Smith mentioned something about her having to fly back to Chicago."
He grimaced. "I knew we'd come to that pretty soon. Tell her I have to talk to her, will you?"
"All right."
He caught her hand when she stood up, feeling its thinness with faint guilt, because he'd been difficult and he knew it. "I care about you," he said curtly. "Even when I'm giving you hell, that never changes."
She managed a wobbly smile. "Same here."
He let go of her hand, uneasy about displaying so much emotion. "And I'm not going to dwell on the past anymore. Maybe Meredith was rightmaybe the truth is cleansing."
"She's a special woman," Myrna replied. "I'm sorry I didn't give her a chance six years ago."
"At least now I understand why. It wasn't snobbery at all, was it?"
She smiled and shook her head. "I can't really afford to look down my nose at people, considering how I grew up."
"You're quality," he said doggedly. "Regardless of your past."
"So are you." She cleared her throat and choked back tears. "I'll send Meredith in."
"Mother"
She turned and saw the expression on his face. "Don't try to apologize," she said gently. "We all have a lot of guilt. We'll deal with it. You'll see."
She closed the door behind her. Cy had to fight a big lump in his throat. At last he understood everything. Why Myrna had chased Meredith away, why his mother was so alone and so sad most of the time. It explained all the mysteries he'd lived with all his life. He closed his eyes. Now all he had to do was come to grips with Meredith and the proxy fight. That shouldn't be too difficult, he told himself with dark humor. He'd done a lot of that in recent weeks.
Half an hour passed before Meredith walked into the room. She was pale and a little shy.
"Come here," he said softly, holding out his hand.
She paused beside him, obviously keeping herself under rigid control. Suddenly he knew why.
"Smith told you my back was worse, didn't he?" he asked. He chuckled. "It's only sore. No damage. Is that why you stayed away? Did you think I was going to end up back in hospital?"
"Yes." She burst into tears and sat down on the arm of the chair, going into his outstretched arms for comfort. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't face you. I thoughtI thought !"
"I'm tougher than you think," he said at her ear. "Don't cry, little one. I'm all right." He laughed softly and smoothed down her disheveled hair, enveloping her on his lap. "We only knotted a few muscles, that's all. I didn't strain my back."
"I felt so guilty," she said.
"No need. I'm not going to lose ground. I don't even hurt. Convinced?"
She lifted her head and looked at him. He wasn't in pain, she could see that even through her tears. She wiped at them, embarrassed. "I'm turning into a watering pot."
"You're just worn out," he corrected. "What's this about Chicago? I thought you were going to wait another week or two."
"Your mother told you, I guess?"
He nodded. "About that. And about my grandmother," he added with a smile.
"Thank God."
"It was hard for her, but she's a trouper. We understand each other a lot better now."
"I'm glad, Cy," she said.
"I wonder" he touched her face with tender fingers "if the baby we made yesterday will look as much like you as Blake looks like me?"
She flushed and a tremor ran through her. "You sound very sure of yourself."
"Yes." He searched her eyes. "Aren't you?"
She had been, and still was, almost certain of it. Somehow she sensed it, and Cy must have, too. It was as if they shared a mental bond these days, because of the intimacy between them. Not totally a physical intimacy, either. It went deep, almost soul deep.
"Yes." She bent and kissed him with aching tenderness. "I hope we have a daughter this time."
"So do I," he whispered back. "Do you have to go to Chicago?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. There are loose ends I need to wrap up, and I have to do it in person." She didn't mention his great-uncle, or the proxies, or the campaign she was going to mount to prevent Don's takeover of the domestic operation, or the fact that she might have to take over his company to save it. She couldn't tell him just yet.
"Okay," he said, nodding. "Does Blake stay?"
She hesitated. The thought of leaving the child disturbed her. "I'd rather take him with me," she said slowly, her eyes troubled.
"Meredith, he's safer here with me, and you know it," Cy said. "Not only that, you've just gotten him settled in kindergarten. Is it fair to disr
upt him again?"
"Of course not," she said. "But I've left him behind far too often in recent years, don't you see? I'd almost lost him in the process. I can't desert him again, and this could take weeks!"
"You can talk to him on the phone, just as you did before," he replied. "Besides that, little one, he's got me and his grandmother this time. He's in a settled environment." He smiled at her. "I won't let him forget you. I'll talk about you all the time."
She didn't like giving in, but she could see the logic of it. Besides, perhaps she could fly home for quick visits and she wouldn't miss too much of his young life. So much depended on her presence in Chicago now. So much! Her future, and Blake's.
"You're right," she said at last. "I can't take him out of school anymore and expect him to get to first grade next year. Mr. Smith will stay, too."
"You'll be alone," he said curtly. "I don't like that. Take Smith with you."
That was a concession of some magnitude, because she knew he was jealous of Mr. Smith. She smiled. "Thank you. But I'd rather he stayed with Blake. Wouldn't you, really?"
"I suppose so," he replied, remembering what the older man had said about the kidnapping attempt. "But I'm going to worry."
"I'll phone you every night," she promised. "I'll be all right. After all, Chicago has been home for six years. The company has a big security force. I'll borrow Holmes. Mr. Smith trained him. Will that satisfy you?"
"Not as well as you did, yesterday," he said with a warm smile, watching her blush. "But he'd better take care of you."
"I'll be back before you miss me. I promise."
"That wouldn't be possible," he said quietly. "I miss you already."
She bit back tears. It was so new, so beautiful, this communication between them. She thanked God for it, even while she worried about how it was going to work. She had a lot to do, and some heavy thinking. Minutes later she was packing.
Telling Blake was the worst of it. When he came home from kindergarten, only to learn that his mother was leaving again, he cried bitterly.
Meredith cradled him gently, trying to explain, but he was furious. It took Cy to calm him down, promising special treats and a phone call from Meredith every night.
"Your mother can fly home on weekends," he added with a pointed stare at Meredith.
She agreed readily, even if she wasn't sure she could oblige. She knew from past experience that a good part of business was conducted socially, and back in Chicago she'd spend a lot of weekends working on those proxies she needed and undermining Don's treachery at her own office. In the end Blake was sulky and unconvinced, but at least he wasn't crying when she left for the airport. She kissed Cy good-bye gingerly, because everyone was watching, but her eyes told him how reluctant she was to leave. She got the same message back from his.
The trip to Chicago seemed to take a long time, even in the Tennison corporate jet. All the way there she pored over facts and figures that her own loyal staff had been digging out about Don's latest projects. Many of them touched on and even overlapped her domestic pursuits. She hadn't really noticed just how subtly Don was taking the reins out of her hands. And some of what she'd learned had her two steps short of homicide.
He'd been using her vendetta against Cy for his own ends, telling his key peopleand some of hersthat she was acting out of petty emotional hysteria and not putting the interests of the company and its workers first. Well, he had her there. She'd allowed the thought of revenge to take her over, ever since she'd first learned that Cy Harden was blocking her mineral leases. She'd jeopardized the corporation from personal interests. No extenuating circumstances could smooth that fact over.
But she'd relented at the last moment, and that had to carry some weight. She'd already contacted McGee and two of the corporate directors who'd backed her when she'd first assumed Henry's role in domestic affairs. They were still on her side. But they wouldn't be enough. She had to keep Don from swaying enough Harden Properties shareholders to give him control. Then she had to undermine his plan to oust her. She had to have a vote of confidence from the directors. She smiled to herself. Well, they said business was shark eat shark. She sat back and began mentally to sharpen her teeth.
Don met her at the airport, looking puzzled and uncertain. "I didn't know you were coming until Harry McGee mentioned it at a marketing meeting this morning," he said in a faintly accusing tone.
"I thought I'd surprise you," she said sweetly, although her eyes were cold and calculatingsomething he didn't miss. "I did, didn't I?"
"Very much. Things are pretty much in flux right now
"No problem. I've been keeping up with the takeover while I was waiting for Cy to get well."
"Is he?" he asked shrewdly. "Will he walk again?"
"Most certainly," she said. "He'll be back at work soon." That wasn't quite true, but it wouldn't hurt to let Don think it. "Cy's no quitter."
"I told you that in the beginning," he reminded her.
"So you did." She turned on the back seat of the limousine and looked directly at him. "Neither am I. And very little gets past me these days, even when I'm distracted."
He looked uneasy. "I don't understand."
"Really?" She smiled even more, leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes with a sigh. "It doesn't matter."
Which had Don scowling long before they got to her home in Lincoln Park.
She spent a busy three weeks working to regain the ground she'd lost in her company during her absence. It was difficult, being away from Cy and Blake, but she phoned and talked to them every night. Cy had almost demanded that she fly home the next weekend, but there was a charity luncheon and a Sunday brunch, both of which she had to attend to drum up support. She tried to explain that, but he was livid because she wouldn't drop everything and rush back. Afterward he let her talk to an equally disappointed Blake. Except for Myrna's pleasure in hearing her voice, she felt like poison to the rest of her family. It depressed her terribly and made her even more remote from then on when she talked to Cy.
Cy was already back at work, in fact, for limited periods, but Meredith didn't know because he dared anyone to tell her.
Jordan had been shocked when he walked into Cy's big office overlooking downtown Billings and found the boss in residence, looking grim and determined.
"You aren't supposed to be here," Jordan remarked.
"Hell, no, I'm not," came the terse reply. "But if I stay at home another week, I can kiss control of my company goodbye. Millie, where are those stock averages?" he thundered.
His harassed little blond secretary came rushing in with a sheaf of paper, her face red, her hair disheveled. "Here you are, Mr. Harden. What next?"
"Get me Sam Harrison on the telephone, and then tell Terry Ogden I want to see him, pronto!"
"Yes, sir!" She rushed back out, closing the door with a snap.
"Poor Millie," Jordan mused under his breath.
"She'll survive," Cy told him. "She's used to me. Now, listen, what have you found out about Tennison International's progress?"
Jordan sat down on the chair across the desk and started quoting material he'd obtained. Cy was like a whirlwind, injuries and all. It was going to be rougher than ever until the takeover was settled, one way or the other. As Cy tossed out instructions to Jordan, and Millie, and the newly arrived Terry Ogden, Jordan could almost feel pity for Don and Kip Tennison. It was going to be like beating a tree branch against a stone wall.
Back in Chicago, Meredith was smiling to herself as she looked at Harden Properties stock on the exchange via the news channel's money report.
Cy didn't want her to know that he was already gobbling up proxies, with the help of his own support people. But she knew it. She'd watched the transactions not only on television, but by computer, and it didn't take a lot of guesswork to discover the difference between the proxies Don was acquiring and the ones Cy was obtaining. But Meredith still had enough to outvote both of them. Don obviously thought his people were l
oyal, because he didn't seem to realize that proxies he was sure he'd snapped up were dribbling right through his fingers. What Meredith was getting were verbal promises, so that she didn't have to play her hand too soon. She had one big surprise to spring on both the men in her life when the next vote came up at the Harden Properties board meeting. But meanwhile, an emergency meeting of the Tennison board had been called. Meredith knew instinctively that it was Don's idea, and she was positive her position was going to be challenged.
The irony of it was that she had no real desire anymore to continue as head of the domestic organization. She'd put in her time, and she was tired. She still owned a hefty chunk of stock, which would pay her a handsome dividend for life, and she had property and investments as well. Henry had left her very well fixed, without causing Don to suffer, either. Don had money of his own. But he wanted power. And Meredith might want to relinquish some of hers, but no way on earth was she going to let her sneaky brother-in-law take it away from her.
She went the cocktail party round, back in harness again, wearing designer clothes and sharing sophisticated conversation while she worked subtly to undermine Don's hold on her corporation. She managed to get to every one of her directors socially, and she used her charm and business acumen to the hilt to undo the damage her brother-in-law had done. It was more work than play, but she noticed an even more arctic cooling in Cy's attitude when she told him she was going to parties in Chicago. It was worse because she couldn't tell him what she was doing. She wouldn't put it past him to back Don. She knew he wanted her to give up the company, and she remembered how ruthless he could be. This was one fight she couldn't afford to lose.
Blake was no more enthusiastic about her absence than Cy, and some nights he hung up without even saying, "I love you, Mommy." All he talked about was his father. That should have pleased her, but it only made her more afraid. Business was no substitute for her child. Why had it taken her so long to realize it? She only hoped that the damage her neglect had done wasn't being corrected too late. She couldn't bear it if Blake turned against her. It was just as bitter that Cy seemed to be less pleased than ever to hear her voice, and his earlier affection was so lacking as to be blatant. Perhaps all along it had only been his weakness and vulnerability that had caused him to be so tender with her. Now he was getting better, and maybe he'd cured himself of his obsession for her. It might have never been anything more than desire after all.